Once
by drippinghoney
Summary: "What if I told you I was a ghost of your past and your future? I am the brother you will never meet, the comrade you once had and the friend who will love you forever." Where Fuji and Ryoma meet way too many times and fall in love before they meet the first time. [Fuji/Ryoma, THRILL]
1. Chapter 1

AN: Chapters 1-5 modified 8/3/2013.

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Once, there was a short grumpy prince who was bored sick of his life. If he had to go to another history lesson, or royal ceremony, or masquerade ball (an unfortunate favorite of his father's), he thought he would go insane.

One morning as he was waking up, he found another boy staring at him...in his bed about half a foot away. Being the healthy red-blooded male he was, the prince promptly shrieked and ducked under the covers. This would have been more effective had the other boy not been sitting on them. Ultimately the prince ended up having only enough blanket slack to cover up to his eyebrows and a tuft of dark hair poked out obviously at the top of the covers.

The strange boy giggled. "Are you trying to hide?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't look like you're doing it all that well," the boy said frankly.

"Maybe if I don't see you, you don't exist," the prince said with determination.

The boy giggled again. "You're funny. You're more interesting than I thought you would be."

The prince carefully lowered the blanket just enough so one eye peeked over the edge. "I wasn't exactly joking," he said hesitantly. At the sight of the strange boy still as close as before (why hadn't he moved away?), the prince jumped back behind his shield.

"Geez, do I look that bad? Or is there something on my face?"

"Who ARE you?"

"Me? Oh, I guess I forgot."

The prince gasped when the blanket was suddenly torn away from him and his face was filled with the features of the strange boy, who leaned in, steadying a hand on the headboard above the prince's head for support.

"I'm Chen, your new best friend. Nice to meet you!"

And just like that the short grumpy prince had a best friend, and life in the castle wasn't boring anymore. Chen followed him everywhere he went, and amused the prince through the rest of his boring lessons and ceremonies and masquerades. After the initial stage of extreme mistrust, followed by the next ten or so stages of decreasing degrees of acute suspicion, the prince learned to regard Chen with a casual daily wariness. He couldn't completely let down his guard because Chen by nature was a very suspicious person, if his preference for outlandish, spicy food was any sign.

Another strange thing about Chen was that no one seemed to notice him except for the prince. Chen also mysteriously disappeared whenever other people were near. So one day, the prince asked Chen about it.

"Hey, can anyone else see you?"

Chen tilted his head and smiled. "Nope," he replied simply.

"Oh, I thought not."

The prince paused as another thought hit him."Hey, Chen?"

"Hmm?"

The prince asked seriously. "Am I crazy?"

Now that shocked a laugh out of Chen, and he wiped his eyes briefly before answering with amusement, "No, you're not. Gods. I've been with you for almost a year and I still can't get used to your bluntness."

The prince squinted at the other boy, a pout forming on his face. "Okay, then what are you if I'm not crazy and hallucinating you?"

Chen played his long fingers through the prince's dark hair, tugging gently at some of the strands, half-smile perched at the edge of his mouth. Used to Chen's touchiness, the prince tilted his head into the hand and waited. Chen's fingers felt sort of nice.

"What if I told you I was a ghost?" Chen mused quietly, as if to himself.

The prince's eyes fluttered open, surprised partly because of the question and partly because he hadn't realized his eyes had closed in the first place.

"Like…dead?"

A chuckle. "Sort of," was the ambiguous reply. "What if I told you I was a ghost of your past and your future? I am the brother you will never meet, the comrade you once had, the friend who will love you…forever." The last word ended in a whisper and Chen looked so uncharacteristically sad at that moment that the prince rushed forward to hug his friend. The short grumpy prince wasn't accustomed to hugs so he misjudged the distance.

The boy _oof-_ed as the prince collided with him. Chen had always been taller than the prince, even after his growth spurt, so the prince's face nestled comfortably in the hollow of Chen's throat. Until then Chen hadn't bothered to wonder how the prince could touch him.

"Don't feel sad, okay? Don't be so sad about—about all that." He didn't understand completely but he grabbed at Chen's shirt, pulling him down to the prince's level. "If you're from my past and my future, that means we'll be together. Forever. Right?"

Chen exhaled, eyes filling with not tears, but something else just as saddening. The prince pouted worriedly at him. Chen touched his cheek gently to relieve some of that tension.

"Don't worry. I'm not sad anymore. But I still love you. So much, too much really." The prince looked confused.

"Is that a bad thing?"

When Chen's eyes were fully open they were the brilliant blue of a clear summer day. They were both gentle and fierce at once, so the prince wasn't surprised Chen hardly ever opened his eyes fully. They were too intense for every day. Now, they opened and reminded the prince of their intensity.

"No, that's not a bad thing at all," Chen said, right before he placed a soft kiss on the prince's lips. The short grumpy prince found himself gaping in shock.

The prince was just twelve years old.

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><p>"Ne, Fuji? What are you looking at?"<p>

Syuusuke reluctantly drew his eyes away from their target and found his redheaded friend peering curiously over his shoulder. "Oh nothing, I was just daydreaming. Eiji, how was your weekend?" Fuji said breezily.

Kikumaru shrugged. "Not bad. I got to watch a movie with Oishi. Oh, that reminds me!" The boy exclaimed as he jumped up. "I forgot to return Oishi's chem homework to him! Big danger! Gotta go, Fujiko, see you in English!" Kikumaru scampered off, leaving just as abruptly as he had arrived.

Fuji, now free of interruptions, went back to his gazing. He was sitting at one of the benches near the back of the school. If one turned a corner, they would find themselves in a secluded pocket near the tennis courts, with plenty of wall to practice on. Where Fuji was sitting, he could see this area through a spotty divider of trees and bushes. It wasn't a perfect view, but good enough.

He saw flashes of white, a bouncing ball, bare legs, a head of dark hair tucked under a cap. Sometimes, he was lucky enough to see the whole figure. Syuusuke leaned back on the bench and stared lazily, lax as a cat under the sun.

If anyone had seen him, they would have thought he was just daydreaming as he gazed into the foliage.


	2. Chapter 2

"I will serve you until the end of my days." It was words like this that embarrassed Cain so much that he couldn't stand to be around his new guard.

It had actually started with the statement, "I will protect you with my life." This had been alright.

When the guard had proclaimed it upon meeting Cain the boy had been surprised and a bit flattered. It was when the proclamations of loyalty continued and became a bit more…imaginative that Cain had misgivings on letting his father hire him a new body guard without his approval.

"I will let no one touch your body."

"I will make sure you are completely satisfied."

"I will guard your purity."

Okay. What the hell? Cain was sixteen, old enough to catch all the implications and double entendres in the guard's words. It didn't help that the guard smiled at him every chance he got. He always looked suspiciously cheerful, like a fox in a chicken coop. What was the guard's name again? Gino—?

"It is Giovanni, young master Cain." The boy practically jumped out of his seat. He hadn't noticed the guard come into the room. He hadn't noticed he was speaking aloud either. Cain really had to break that habit.

"Right. Giovanni," Cain said, forcing down the flush that had inflamed his face. He eyed the brunette warily out the corner of his eye.

Giovanni smiled briefly before he set a rather serious look on Cain, who stiffened in recognition. Oh no, not again.

"But you may call me whatever you wish, young master. I am yours to—"

"Yes, yes, I get it," Cain snapped, "So stop, no more. God, you're embarrassing."

Giovanni cocked his head. "Master Cain?" Like he really didn't know. The boy cast an evil look at the guard before scampering off to the next room.

If he had looked behind him as he left, Cain might have spotted the tiny but visible smirk tracing his guard's lips.

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><p>Ryoma didn't know when he started having the dreams exactly. They just started one night and he had been tormented by them ever since. He couldn't even place when exactly they had started because he never remembered them afterwards, not until recently when he started recounting bits and pieces.<p>

When Ryoma realized that he had been having the dreams for a while he thought he might tell someone. The only problem was he could never remember enough to have something definite to say. He just kept waking up in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat and heart pounding from whatever dream he had and wouldn't remember. He got so worked up it usually took him up to an hour to fall back asleep, which was damn annoying and had made him late for school more than once.

There was one odd constant in his dreams that Ryoma caught on to, and it was shocking when he finally put together the pieces. The hair, the eyes, the laugh, the smile, the odd affinity for spicy, disgusting foods, the quick wit, the temper, the genius—these characteristics and more kept appearing in his dreams and it wasn't long before Ryoma realized that he was dreaming of Fuji-senpai of all people.

Fuji-senpai was the key. The question was, why?


	3. Chapter 3

Jake had been six when they first brought him to the orphanage. He had the clear, solemn eyes of a child beyond his years. He seemed to understand without being told that his parents wouldn't be returning. The orphanage had told him they were on vacation.

A year later, the orphanage received a new addition named Sebastian. "But call me Bastian," the older boy said as he extended his hand. Jake took the hand and shook it politely, but when he let go the new boy had yet to release his fingers. Jake was perplexed but held back his frown.

Bastian was smiling widely and his eyes were as blue as the ocean Jake remembered from his childhood. "You're so cute," he said, making Jake blink at him in clear confusion.

"Umm, thank you?" Jake tugged at his hand, forgetting etiquette in his strong urge to get some space between him and this strange boy.

"You're a lot younger than me, huh? How old are you? I'll be seventeen next month." Bastian didn't look seventeen, which was a strange age to enter the orphanage with. If he was telling the truth he would have to leave in a year. Jake felt grateful he had more time. He didn't know where to go after the orphanage.

"I'm fourteen," Jake muttered.

"Ehh? I could have sworn you were only twelve!"

Jake frowned before he could stop himself, but he schooled it away with little effort. Bastian frowned as well for some reason and all of a sudden Jake had the feeling he was being dissected.

Jake stared back impassively, the best defense he had and they observed each other in a moment of silence. It would have been an oddly solemn scene for an observer. Bastian broke the silence first, smiling gently.

"I have a feeling you're a lot like me," Bastian told him. Then he laughed when Jake couldn't hold back his instinctive flash of skepticism.

Bastian followed Jake back to the lonely little playroom that no one else visited and continued to pester him the rest of the day until he escaped to his bed that night. The next morning, Bastian stuck himself to Jake like glue and wouldn't leave his side no matter how much Jake tried to get away. As if that wasn't bad enough, that night Jake crawled into his bed with what he was sure was a migraine pounding away at his skull and was horrified to find someone else already in it.

Jake yelped and bucked away but the bed-thief grabbed him tight around the waist and brought him in in a close hug. "Shh, it's just me," the intruder whispered, and Jake's breath whooshed out of him.

"Bastian?!" Jake whisper-screamed. He wasn't sure if he was angry or relieved. "Let go of me!"

The arms loosened and Jake squirmed away far enough to turn over to face the other boy. Unfortunately, the bed was so small that he ended up with his face only inches away from Bastian's. He could feel Bastian's breaths against his cheek.

"Why are you here?" Jake said, voice hushed to keep from waking up the other children. He struggled to see Bastian in the dark.

Bastian said honestly, "I felt lonely, and I wanted to hug something."

"Well, why did you come into _my_ bed?"

"Because I wanted to hug _you_."

"That—That doesn't make any sense!"

"Shhhh!"

Jake would have screamed but he didn't want to wake up the whole orphanage. The next morning though he felt no guilt in shoving Bastian out of his bed. Bastian simply smiled and followed him to breakfast after that. Jake was disgruntled but not surprised to find the older boy in his bed later that night.

One day at a time, Bastian elbowed his way into Jake's quiet life and filled it with his bold presence. At first Jake tolerated him but as Bastian continued to shower him with his friendship, Jake grew used to him and unconsciously grew to depend on his presence in his life. The orphanage was used to the small, solemn boy secluding himself from the rest but Bastian's constant presence changed him. Jake still strongly preferred his solitude but he talked more often, especially if Bastian was in the room. In fact, when Bastian got him going Jake could show more emotion than the orphanage had seen from him in all the years he had been there.

Underneath his polite demeanor, Jake was obstinate and blunt and really quite mouthy. Seeing him argue with Bastian was one of the funniest scenes anyone at the orphanage witnessed. Jake was also heartrendingly innocent if one noticed the way he sucked up all the easy affection Bastian gave him. So it was no surprise that Jake would be the most anxious when Bastian reached his eighteenth birthday.

"Will you come back for me?" Jake asked, golden eyes wary and fragile as he gazed up at the older boy. If Jake could feel the cold in his short-sleeved shirt he gave no sign of it. His pale feet were bare, his hair sleep-tousled. In short he looked even cuddlier than usual.

Bastian's smile turned regretful. "I will," he said firmly.

Jake didn't look convinced and if anything his hold on Bastian's hand got tighter. "You promise?"

Bastian smiled one last smile and laid one last kiss on his forehead. Jake closed his eyes as the lips brushed his skin, and a quiet, "I promise," ruffled his black bangs. Then Bastian let go and walked into the blanket of snow with Jake watching him all the while. His face crumpled when the older boy's figure finally disappeared into the whiteness.

Somehow he already knew, in the same way he knew about his parents' deaths. He would never see Bastian again.

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><p>When Ryoma woke up, it was another beautiful day for tennis. For once he was in no mood to play. He was only aware of the crushing sadness that overwhelmed him and the wetness on his face that told him he had been crying in his sleep. This time he could remember with painful clarity the tail end of his dream.<p>

Or nightmare, Ryoma thought bitterly. He—_Bastian—_had left him. He had left him. He had_ left_ him.

Ryoma curled up in his bed, bringing the blankets tight around him as the grief of his dream rolled over him again, only slighter duller now that he had woken up. Ryoma had never met a Sebastian, or a Bastian at that in his entire life, but he knew exactly who he was because he saw him almost every day.

Ryoma flexed the hand the boy in his dreams had released, recalling the feel of the larger hand. Why had he left?

Ryoma wondered. Why did Fuji-senpai leave him?


	4. Chapter 4

Ryoma watched the older boy carefully the next day they had practice.

Fuji-senpai was stretching next to Kikumaru-senpai and patiently listening to the acrobat rant about a certain redhead he had run into that morning and gotten into a ferocious argument, then contest with.

"Then he did this flip, pretty basic since I've already done it a million times in elementary school," Kikumaru said before he performed said flip with the levity of a professional. Fuji's patient smile shifted into a worried frown.

"Eiji, be careful. You haven't finished stretching yet. Since you just finished running you might pull a muscle...like that." Kikumaru clutched at his calf and began hopping around frantically on the other one, catching the attention of the rest of the club.

"Ow, ow, owie!"

"Eiji, what did I tell you about stretching completely so you don't pull a muscle!" Oishi rushed in to help his partner before he injured himself further, and the next few minutes were busied with aiding the acrobat to the lockers for the first aid kit.

Tezuka laid his index finger on his forehead in a silent attempt to ward off an impending headache.

"Eiji is very lively today, eh?" Inui commented, scribbling away in his notebook.

"Yes," grumbled Tezuka, but he straightened with a captain's resolve to face another day without fear no matter what antics his players pulled. This day would be a good day for practicing tennis, if he could help it.

"Everyone to the courts for warm-up rallies!"

Ryoma ended up being tugged into a rally with Momo-senpai. He had a hard time concentrating because to his luck Fuji was playing on the court directly beside theirs. Against his will, Ryoma's eyes kept sliding over to the other court and he didn't notice his partner getting steadily angrier at his lack of attention until he viciously slam-dunked the ball, whipping Ryoma's racket out of his hands. Ryoma hissed as his palms immediately began to redden.

Momo looked unrepentant as he steadied his racket at the younger boy. "That's what you get for not paying attention to the game. You can't lose focus like that during the finals, you just can't," Momo scolded.

Ryoma cast him a baleful look before he fixed his cap, "che"-ed and ambled over to pick up his racket.

Fuji was dancing through a rally with burning!Kawamura as Ryoma passed by. "Are you feeling alright, Echizen? You seem a bit distracted today." He smoothly returned Kawamura's hit before glancing briefly at Ryoma, who thought he saw the slightest hint of blue before Fuji turned away again.

"Try a lot distracted, Fuji-senpai!" called a miffed Momo from the other side.

Ryoma looked away, letting the wide brim of his cap hide his eyes. "I'm fine," he mumbled and hurried away without further ado. Speedily, he snapped a twist serve at Momo, who hadn't been expecting the sudden start of another rally and just barely caught it back, crying foul the whole time.

Ryoma played and this time tried to concentrate completely on the game. It was difficult because he still had the urge to watch Fuji. He didn't dare to even glance at him though, because this time—by the hair rising on the back of his neck and his own intuition—he was sure the prodigy was observing him as he played.

Playing under someone's close regard was one of the most exciting and nerve-racking experiences one could undergo, so by the time Ryoma finished his practice rally with Momo he was glistening with cold, nervous sweat. He took a few deep breaths that had his chest heaving and looked over at the other court to see how the other practice match was going. Ryoma's breath caught in his throat as he locked eyes with Fuji, who had clearly been watching him.

Blue ice disappeared as Fuji smiled, nodded and turned back to his practice, racket twirling and ready in his fingers.

Ryoma turned away blushing. He realized he was blushing but he couldn't seem to stop himself, and he had to force back the urge to scrub at his cheeks like a girl. He had to stop this. The dreams were making him act weird at a time when he needed to be concentrating on making the Nationals with the rest of the team. This sudden fixation on Fuji-senpai would distract him from improving his tennis. He needed to concentrate.

For the rest of the practice, Ryoma was careful not to look at Fuji once, and no one noticed anything amiss because Ryoma hadn't had a chance to play or practice with Fuji all day. By the time practice was over and Ryoma was slowly walking home under the light of the setting sun, he thought he had made some progress. Ryoma just needed to concentrate on not focusing so much on Fuji during the day and everything would be as it was before. If he had to ignore Fuji for a few weeks before the strange anxiety around him disappeared then Ryoma would do that.

Now, his only problem was figuring out how to get rid of the dreams disrupting his sleep. Ryoma thought he had an idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Fuji had been having strong dreams for years but he hadn't been able to remember them until recently. He was actually relieved when he started to remember them. After all, it was quite disorienting to wake up smiling or crying without understanding why. Fuji had been so frustrated that he had had his sister do regular tarot readings for him. These days, he went to his sister to have his fortune read out of habit because he didn't need his dreams predicted anymore. He knew what his dreams meant now.

Fuji's dreams were always different, but also always similar in that they contained the same person in each one. Fuji didn't know who he was but impossibly, inexplicably he loved him.

If someone told Fuji to recreate the person in mind on paper even as the prodigy he was he wouldn't have been able to. Fuji wasn't a bad hand at drawing but his dream person was so intense in his mind. He was a bright light that invoked so much love and want in Fuji that it scared him and he knew instinctively that he could never have caught all that emotion on simple paper. That person's image was warped by Fuji's intense emotions like light bending through smoke. No one as perfect as him could exist in real life.

Smooth pale skin, hair as dark as midnight, eyes like honey when filled with light, like burnt gold when saddened.

A smile, a smirk, a pout, a shy uncertain tilt, a frown, teeth bared in the fierce grin of a challenge, mouth thrown open in utter abandon….

Fuji had literally over a thousand images in his mind. They were snapshots caught in a tornado. One after another they flashed by and disappeared before Fuji could catch and relish them.

Fuji gave up on connecting the pieces to find the person outside of his dreams. It was all for the best, he thought. Being so fixated on a dream person would ensure only loneliness and regret and life was short. Fuji didn't want to waste his life pining for someone he would never meet awake.

So like that life continued with friends and family, school and tennis, and Fuji forgot about his dreams by day and remembered each night when he slipped into them once again. He fell in love again every night and woke up just a touch different every morning. Didn't books and movies affect one just the same though? The viewer would walk away with something new each time, leaving a piece of them behind.

Fuji didn't know what he had lost but sometimes he would feel so empty that he was sure that he had lost something to his dreams. Sometimes though when he walked to school in the morning his heart was swelled with love and contentment, and life tasted delicately sweet like the juice of a peach.

Fuji thought that he had fallen into one of his dreams the day Echizen Ryoma walked into his life because although he had never met him he had seen his face a thousand times before.

And Fuji fell in love all over again.

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AN: The soul mate of this story in song form: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.


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